For no bout did that phrase ring more true than it did for Mankind's moment of destiny against The Undertaker. Having done everything in his power to secure the match which would finally slake a decade-long obsession, Mankind now finds himself in the realm of shadow, fighting an entity which many have warned him cannot be contained or withstood. He has awoken a dragon in the form of The Undertaker, and Mankind to his breaking point. But Mankind has not gotten to where he is by succumbing to mortal breaking point. He will go further than perhaps any who have come before him, he will push The Phenom to limits that even The Deadman does not yet know he has, and above all, Mankind will bring fury and destruction. The time for talking is indeed over. Now comes the moment of truth, and the answer to the most intriguing and debated question of all during this saga: after such a prolonged absence, will the hands of time finally catch up with The Undertaker? After decades-long wars against the corrupted and wayward souls who stalk his yard, can The Phenom truly rise up once more and reclaim his throne from an enemy hell-bent on casting him down into the abyss? This is a threat unlike any The Undertaker has faced before, and it commands one final response before the battle can truly begin…
As was customary, the cameras clicked on and panned across the tide of fans waving signs and merchandise in the seemingly endless crowd. They were all here to see different superstars and knockouts, all led to the iWireless Center by subtly different motivations, but all were united in their love of pro wrestling and their belief that this show was going to be one of the greatest that EBWF had yet produced. The atmosphere was utterly electric…
BONG!
A shriek of excitement went up as the lights dimmed and all were plunged into a crushing void, punctuated only by the blinking brightness of camera phones and flash bulbs as people desperately tried to capture one of the most iconic moments in all of sport and entertainment.
BONG!
But for the moment they would be frustrated. Because when music began, it was not the music of The Undertaker. Instead it was the mournful chant of druids, a sound not yet heard since The Phenom’s EBWF arrival. A hush settled on the fans, a tension in the air, as first one… then two… then four, six, EIGHT druids began to file silently onto the stage, each of them carrying an unlit torch. Ordinarily those torches would be flaming beacons in the enforced darkness, but the absence of their light only added to the mystery. One by one they shuffled into position across the front of the stage, positioned under the giant screen which hung above them, and then they stood motionless, expressionless, heads bowed.
CRACKLE!!
FIZZ!!
Suddenly, with a deafening whistle of electrical feedback, the screen flared into life. The sound system continued to wail its objection to being possessed for another moment, and then silence reigned. The druids, unflinching, did not look up at the screen or motion in any way. This was evidently all part of the plan, a plan which meant that The Undertaker had not been able to resist – he had not been able to let such an occasion as this definitive fight with Mankind pass by without one final psychological blow being struck. And here it came…
The darkness which had returned to the screen following that initial flare of activity now lifted. The sound system no longer shrieked but instead invited the crowd to share in the discomfort of heavy rain and a rumble of distant thunder. Even the sound of such a deluge made some feel unaccountably cold. Wherever The Undertaker was, it was desolate. When the scene came into view, it did nothing to dispel that assumption. Viewers at home were now taken full screen to the video package while those in the arena were drawn, every man, woman and child of them, to the screen. What met their eyes was an old shack. It was admittedly not aided by the gloom of the night and the miserable weather, but there was no denying that whoever owned this shack had maintained it poorly. The window was slick with cobwebs and even though the front door was closed, the light from within could be seen through splits in the wood. And even though the night was dark and wild, there was nothing welcoming about that light. An inexplicable malice dwelt within those walls and discomfort was evident all across the arena. And then… footsteps. Floorboards groaned under slow, deliberate steps, growing louder with every thud until at last the light could no longer be seen through the wooden entryway. Whatever resided within, it was now standing right behind the door…
And with a sudden whip it was thrust open, coinciding with a flash of lightning and the loudest ripple of thunder yet heard. And there stood The Reaper of Souls.
He was half-obscured by darkness but the crowd saw enough to roar in excitement and relief that the terror within the shack had been their own Lord of Darkness and not some unseen monster. After a moment The Undertaker took a couple more steps forward and came to rest outside, head bowed to obscure his eyes below the rim of the iconic hat synonymous with his latest costume incarnation. What could be seen of his face was expressionless, lifeless. He seemed bereft of the kind of pressure that was surely engulfing Mankind mere hours before they headlined this show, a show which Undertaker had hijacked to deliver whatever message he was about to speak. The fans waited, breath held, tremors of anticipation dancing on their spines. This was EBWF. This was the kind of moment that they had paid their money to see. This was undeniably what The Undertaker was all about. At long last he raised his eyes to look straight into the camera and after allowing another short pause for the cheap pop which that motion gave him, he motioned outward with his hands and broke his silence.
The Undertaker:“Behold… the legacy of The Undertaker.”
Nobody knew quite what to make of that, a murmur of questioning going around the fans. As with many of The Phenom’s metaphors, meaning would only become apparent as the story was told. After a suitable pause, The Undertaker resumed.
The Undertaker:“This… is the house that I have built over three decades. Into it I have given my blood… my body… and the souls of all who would come to make a name for themselves in the domain of The Undertaker. This house… is the shelter from the storm. It is sanctuary for those who would seek it – a light in the darkness. These hands… have forged a legacy with the bones of those who would stand in the way of my design. Many have come… and all have been put to rest. And this… house… endures. You see… this house does not belong to The Undertaker. It is a symbol of what can be accomplished my any man who comes into this industry pure of heart… and strong of will. A TRUE warrior who walks in the path of The Undertaker. THAT is who this house was constructed for. THAT is the legacy which I have left behind for those who would take up my torch.” (The crowd were beginning to warm to the metaphor now as the layers of mystery were peeled back. Undertaker motioned before him into the garden, thick with weeds and undergrowth)"There… for three decades have men come to attempt to take by force what they cannot build for themselves. This… is my yard. My TRUE yard. And in it battles have been fought and won which no mortal man could endure. I have seen each and every one of the false idols offered up by this industry since the beginning… and one by one they have all suffered the same fate. They have all come stalking up this garden path… this Path to Victory… and each and every one of them have found that the price of admission to MY house was great indeed. They have ALL surrendered their soul. The jealous and the proud were met with judgment and cast down into despair, for all who suffer that fate have learned with bitterness and regret that they cannot emulate The Undertaker. None born of mortal blood and bone can recreate what I have built at their own expense. THIS is the true legacy of The Undertaker. And I believed it to be secure…”
A mournful wind, feeble, whistled tamely across the front of the shack as Undertaker bowed his head once more in silent reflection. It all added to the desolation, the sense of abandonment of what was once a proud legacy.
The Undertaker:“These lands fell silent and forgotten, and in time I allowed myself to believe that there were no more beasts to hunt. I allowed myself to believe that this task was done, that I had accomplished all that I set out to do. And so I allowed myself to withdraw into the shadows, confident that others would rise to the summit… would rise to MY throne and maintain this symbol. But none have tended the gardens… none have ensured that the foundations upon which this house was built are still secure. Instead… decay… despair… and desolation. You see, those who have climbed to the summit of EBWF. What have done so without ever having to confront their darkest nightmare. I have allowed men to walk freely into this house, to partake of its shelter, without paying the price. In my own pride and in the false confidence I had in my legacy, I believed that simply LEAVING this legacy was enough, that others were capable of carrying it on. But how can any man appreciate that which he has not earned? By allowing those who would anoint themselves the greatest of the great to go untested, I have ensured that this house would fall into the hands of those with no respect… with no honor… and with no true soul. EBWF rotting from the inside, consumed by a cancer of entitlement and misplaced confidence… and it is a cancer which I have allowed to fester for too long. But THAT… ENDS… NOW.” (There was a fire in Undertaker’s eyes which drew the breath from all who looked into them; a perfect storm of lifeless, pale void and the searing flame of unshakable passion) “It ends because one man has gone further than any other, because one man has demonstrated that this cancer has taken deeper root than even I had perceived. It ends… because of the actions of Mankind.”
Undertaker bowed his head for another moment of thought.
The driving rain persisted, the wind was gaining in strength once more, as though their life force was bound to the rising fury of The Deadman. The mention of Mankind's name had caused even the elements to voice their disdain.
The Undertaker:“Let notice be served… that the Undertaker walks once more in the lands of mortal man. And let Mankind be the harbinger of the end of pride. I WILL defeat Mankind and I WILL purge this industry of its cancer. For THIS is MY legacy… and I have returned to bring light unto the darkness.”
Undertaker surveyed the house one more time, running a hand down the beam which held up the roof. His out-stretched fingers, bandaged and gloved as they were, gave only the gentlest caress which belied the size and ferocity of The Phenom. It was almost tender. Then his eyes snapped back to the camera, wild and untamable once more.
The Undertaker:“I had accepted that this legacy was no longer treasured as I had hoped. I had accepted that my return would be necessary if I was to restore the house that I had built to its former glory… if I was to teach the next generation the true fragility and value of their success. But what I will NOT accept or endure from any mortal man is the DIRECT. I who have built the very ground he walks upon… I who have bled and fought… been buried and risen from the ground… walked through hell fire itself to preserve the life which Mankind so treasures… I will NOT be disrespected. What Mankind has done… his actions have set him upon a path not to victory... but to his own destruction. You see… Mankind is a man who believes that he has what it takes to step into this house and ascend MY throne. He has been blessed with gifts that many men will never have and among them… is his longevity. One by one he has seen the icons and the false idols fall beneath my feet. He has seen them all buried, each and every one of us from what they now call the Attitude Era… Mankind has allowed himself to believe that he is the last of a species long extinct. He believes not only that he CAN lay claim to my throne… but that is BELONGS to him. But what Mankind needs to realise is that he has overlooked one simple fact of the laws of succession: if you want to BE the king… you have to KILL the king. And Mankind, I… am NOT… DEAD… YET.” A flame of defiance danced in those dead eyes of The Phenom) “I have seen kings… and I have beaten kings. And I know that each and every one of them share the same inherent flaw as Mankind: they all… bow… before the grave. What Mankind refuses to comprehend, and what he WILL learn tonight, is that in me he is not dealing with a simple king. He is dealing with the Reaper of Souls and the Lord of Darkness. I bow to no king… and I yield not unto the grave. Mankind... you cannot inherit a throne from one who WILL not… who CAN not… be killed.”(A faint smile flashed across Taker’s eyes as he surveyed the garden again) “Tonight when you come to this yard and you attempt to lay claim to my legacy, Mankind, you will look me in the eyes and I will see the same expression written across your face that I have seen on every other man who walked this Path to Victory before you. Blinded by fortune and fame they have all come to seek out the Dragon, and when they feel the true force of my fury… they take a step back. In that moment, Mankind, as the bell rings and you truly grasp the scale of your miscalculation… as you STEP… BACK… know this: I will show you no mercy. I will take your pride… I will take your legacy… and I WILL take your soul. And you will be buried with all the rest, unmarked… unwanted… and UNREMEMBERED. But take solace, Mankind, because you have one thing that those who will soon follow you into the grave can never have. You… and your sacrifice… have MEANING. You see, the mists of fate have guided you into my path at the most opportune moment. You are one of the most dominant forces of the past decade and a half. And now? Now… you are my symbol. You are the symbol of the fate that awaits any man who follows your path of corruption. You are the symbol of what I have in store for ALL of those who have defaced my legacy, ALL who have to answer for the decay of the house that I built. You have played your part in this, Mankind, with your pride and your jealousy and your arrogant belief that you can put down The Undertaker and truly become the last of our breed… but you are not solely to blame. There are those who walk the halls of this company who have heard the name of The Undertaker only in myth… in stories half-whispered like a ghost of the past. You are the tool that will allow me to prove to everybody that I am NOT the past. I am the present, and I am come to steal their future. Mankind... in death… you give life to the renewal of this legacy.”
In the arena itself there was a rumble of thunder and a sudden crash of lightning struck the stage. The druids, almost forgotten all this time, gave no motion, but from the top of their torches there was now on each a flame! It was an awe-inspiring set piece which drew a groan of disbelief from the crowd, but the metaphor was clear. Undertaker could bring light and hope with that one simple command, and later on tonight he would similarly dispel the darkness of Mankind.
The Undertaker:“Mankind… you will bring a fury that I have rarely been tested against. When we meet tonight in MY yard… we will share a battle that neither one of us has endured since the early days, when icons like us walked freely across the land. Make no mistake about it: I KNOW the size of your heart and I KNOW the war which awaits. But passion and misguided belief alone will not be enough to save you when you step upon the scales of the Judge. I find you unworthy, Mankind... and you WILL be consumed by the cleansing fires of my legacy. Yours will be the bones with which I commence a great rebuilding… and before this night is out… you WILL… REST… IN… PEEEEEACE!!!”
BONG!
For a moment The Undertaker stared once more, defiantly, out at the watching world, and then the camera feed gave way once more to darkness and the druids began to file away back into the abyss. The crowd had been left awed and with much to ponder. Many had not given much thought to the wider connotations of this fight beyond the fact that two great names would be going one-on-one, but the fact was that the result would have implications that would send tremors across EBWF. If Mankind won, if he could conquer The Undertaker, then he might just be the one to end his vaunted career. And if Mankind could do that, then he truly was the last of an extinct race and the heir-apparent to the throne. The man who held the fate of Undertaker’s legacy once and for all in his hands. But if he lost… if The Undertaker could roll back the years to a time when he made a career out of winning these matches week in, week out, then the landscape would shift again. Tonight would prove once and for all if The Undertaker still had the physical presence to match his undoubted aura. If the legendary Phenom was still at the peak of his powers, if Mankind fell tonight, then there was undeniably a new great superpower within EBWF That opened the door to The Deadman could prove that he was indeed what he claimed to be: immortal. Only one may pass, the other would be cast down into an abyss they may never climb out of. Both of these titans had made careers on winning in precisely these conditions. This was the magic of EBWF. This was the magic of pro wrestling, on a night where only one thing was guaranteed: whoever won, the fans were in for a battle they would not soon forget…